


Ship to Shore

by thecarlysutra



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-Canon, Postcards, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21810019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/pseuds/thecarlysutra
Summary: Maverick has been teaching at TOPGUN for about ten weeks when he gets a postcard.Things kind of go off after that.A million thanks to Carla for her beta.
Relationships: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Comments: 42
Kudos: 166
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Ship to Shore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StripySock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripySock/gifts).



  
1986

Maverick has been teaching at TOPGUN for about ten weeks when something unusual arrives in his office mail. It’s a postcard with some sort of foreign lettering on it—Indonesian or Thai, he’s never sure—and on the back, written in tight, neat script:

> How’s life on dry land?  
>  \- Ice

Maverick stares at it for a while, and then shoves it into his desk drawer and forgets about it.

***

A few weeks later, Maverick reaches into his desk drawer for more staples and finds the postcard. He frowns at it, starts to shove it further back into the drawer, and then changes his mind and props it up on his desk between the picture of him and his father and one of him and Goose. 

***

After a week of staring at Ice’s postcard, Maverick looks up Ice’s FPO. He buys a postcard with a busty woman in a tiny bikini with the words WISH YOU WERE HER emblazoned across it, and on the back he writes,

> Fine. Sunny. No curfew. How’s the front?  
>  \- Maverick

And then he mails it.

***

They talk back and forth on the backs of postcards for half a year. Through Ice getting a promotion. Through Charlie leaving. Through Thanksgiving and Christmas and the calendar turning to a new year. Life at TOPGUN is good. Maverick finds he actually likes teaching, and he doesn’t miss the excitement of a MiG on your tail, the hairs on the back of your neck pricking up just before your RIO spots them. After work, he goes to the O Club. He drinks. He takes women home for a night. He lays in bed after they leave and wonders what Ice is doing in that moment, on the other side of the world. 

  
  


1987

On Maverick’s birthday, he gets a card in an envelope with Ice’s FPO as the return address. It’s a birthday card with a dumb joke, and Maverick can’t remember whether he’s told Ice when his birthday is.

> Congratulations on another trip around the sun.  
>  \- Ice

And then at the bottom there’s a phone number. Maverick goes all day without calling it. He celebrates his birthday with a TV dinner in front of the television, which is his own fault; Carole called and invited him to come spend a long weekend with her and Bradley, but Maverick told her he couldn’t take the time off work. He’s not ready for that yet. At around ten he goes to bed, and at midnight he’s still awake, and he realizes he’s memorized the phone number on Ice’s card. He dials the numbers slowly, and waits while Ice is paged.

“Hey,” Ice says when he comes on the line. He sounds slightly out of breath. “Happy birthday.” 

It’s not his birthday anymore, but maybe it still is where Ice is. 

“Thanks,” Maverick says. 

“Surprised you don’t have some girl there to celebrate with.”

“Didn’t feel like company.” 

“You called me.” 

“You don’t count.” 

Ice makes a noise that Maverick can’t tell, over the long distance connection, whether it’s a sigh or a laugh. 

“You been up today?” he asks. 

“Yeah. Good shift. One MiG all day, bugged out the second he saw me, and the sky right now is so clear, so blue … it looks like it goes on forever. Kinda day you dream about.” 

Maverick does dream about it. The open sky and no fuel gage, no horizon. Just sky and no tether forever and ever. 

“Sounds nice,” he says. 

***

Maverick gives Ice his phone number at home and the one at the office, and he gets annoyed when Ice doesn’t call. It’s about three weeks until he finally does; Maverick is at the office, shuffling paperwork before class starts, when the phone rings. He’s expecting a call from a vendor, so he’s surprised when he hears Ice’s voice.

“What are you doing up?” Maverick asks. He does the mental math; it’s past 2300 where Ice is.

“I’m not a child,” Ice snaps. “I don’t have a bedtime.”

“Touchy. What do you want?”

“I don’t know, Mitchell; what does one usually want when placing a phone call? I wanted to talk to you, you dense fuck.”

Maverick frowns. He wishes Ice were close enough to smack, or that his wit was quick enough to come up with a devastating barb before Ice has the chance to speak again.

“How’s TOPGUN? You seen anyone as good as me yet?”

Maverick rolls his eyes. “You’re the metric by which I measure all things, Ice.”

“Just making conversation.”

Maverick isn’t sure why. He doesn’t want to hang up, though, and he isn’t sure why that is, either.

“They’re fine. It’s weird; I’ve been here nine months, and I’m already starting to think of them as kids, even though some of them are older than I am.”

He’s never told anyone that before. He doesn’t really talk to anyone else, though.

“You’re in a position of authority now,” Ice says. “That’s not so unusual.”

“You like to think of what position I’m in?” 

Ice snorts. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Maverick laughs. They talk until Maverick has to go, and after that they talk over the phone a couple times a week, every week.

***

It’s 0100 where Maverick is, early afternoon where Ice is. Maverick lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the phone against his ear.

“It’s almost here,” he says.

“I know,” Ice says gently. “I remember.”

Goose’s death. Soon he’ll have been gone a year. Maverick has agreed to go spend a long weekend with Carole and Bradley on the actual date, which is creeping up. Maverick feels the date looming like a death row inmate approaching execution. He wonders how Ice feels it. Goose’s death is no one’s fault, but it was Ice’s jetwash. He was up there.

There’s no one else who can say that.

“What do I do?” he asks.

“You go see Carole. You remember him. Then you go back to living your life.”

“I’m not sure I am,” Maverick says bluntly.

“What does that mean?”

“I mean … I don’t know. Forget it.”

“Maverick,” Ice says, and then stops. Maverick hears the same stiff quality to his voice as when he tried to comfort him after Goose’s death. He closes his eyes. “I knew Goose a little. We flew together for a while, right out of flight school. And I know what he meant to you. What you meant to each other. And I’m not saying forget that, and I’m not saying bury it. I’m saying, he wouldn’t want you sleepwalking through life because he’s no longer in it. You know?”

“Ice …”

“And I know you, too, Maverick. You’re not the kind to just take something lying down. Take life with your teeth, Mav. You know how. Don’t keep flinching. You’re better than that.”

“I gotta go,” Maverick says, and he hangs up before Ice can say anything more.

***

Maverick makes it through four days with Carole and Bradley and a fake smile. He drinks on the plane back to San Diego, one whiskey, two. He drives himself home from the airport drunker than is wise, but nothing happens. He’s lucky.

He’s always so fucking lucky.

Maverick throws his suitcase at the closet, and goes through his cabinet until he finds a bottle of Dewar’s. He sits at the kitchen table with the bottle and a glass and the phone.

“Maverick?” 

“I hate you, you fucking uptight snob,” Maverick growls. “I hate the way you fly and I hate the way you look at me and I hate your goddamn pornstar mouth, and I hate—I fucking hate that you can look through me and see what I’m trying to hide. Goddammit, Ice, who does that?”

He hears Ice take a breath. Release it slowly. It feels like it takes him hours to reply.

“It’s okay, Mav,” he says finally, and Maverick sobs so hard he can’t breathe, but he keeps the phone to his ear, and Ice doesn’t say anything, but Maverick can hear him breathing, and he feels like an astronaut caught outside his ship, one strong line keeping him from floating off into the vacuum of space and being lost forever, and that line is Ice.

***

Maverick throws away the bottle of Dewar’s, and he cleans his house and he does his laundry. He starts going to the gym in the morning before work, and he calls Ice every evening.

One night, Ice is a bit stilted on the phone, and when Maverick pokes, he says, “I’ve got some leave coming up.”

“That could be a really bad idea,” Maverick says, and then regrets saying it. “Come here. Come here, Ice.”

Ice is quiet for a long moment, and Maverick is afraid that he’s ruined it, this, whatever this is. It’s been going on over a year at this point, and sometimes thinking of talking to Ice in the evening is what gets Maverick through the day.

“Okay,” Ice says. 

***

Maverick waits for Ice at the arrival gate. Watching people meeting their loved ones coming home, he feels odd, conspicuous, like maybe he should have brought flowers or something. No. That’s stupid.

He sees Ice before Ice sees him. He looks remarkably relaxed for someone coming off a twenty hour transport. He’s dressed in service khakis and carrying a small duffel. Maverick watches him, watches him move, and something feels tight in his chest. He walks up to meet him, and the two of them stand still in the middle of the crowd, people moving all around them, walking past them to and from planes.

“Hey,” Ice says, and he smiles, a genuine, open smile like after the Layton rescue, and the tight thing in Maverick’s chest makes it hard for him to breathe.

“Hey,” he says. “Can I take your bag?”

Ice shrugs, and hands his duffel to Maverick. He follows him out.

***

Maverick takes Ice to the boardwalk at Mission Beach, and they eat fresh seafood from a little place right on the beach. It’s dark when they finish, and the beach is relatively deserted, and they walk through the dunes with their boots in their hands, the sand soft and shifting underfoot.

“So how is it?” Maverick asks. “Dry land?”

Ice is standing in the surf, the tides frothing around his ankles, but he smiles and says, “It has its perks.”

Maverick steps closer to him. Ice watches him, his head cocking to the side, interested. They’re toe-to-toe in the surf, the moon huge and full overhead, just the two of them on the beach. Maverick hesitates.

“Just do it, already,” Ice says, and Maverick leans in and kisses him.

***

They manage to keep their hands off each other in the cab, but the second they’re in Maverick’s house, that ends. Ice grabs him by his shirtfront, pulling him in and kissing him soundly. The door isn’t closed until Ice slams Maverick back against it, boxing him in, kissing him hard and kissing him well. Maverick squirms, angling for friction, and ends up rutting up on Ice’s leg.

“Greedy,” Ice gasps against his ear. He sucks at the pulse point in his neck, his quick fingers plucking open the front of Maverick’s pants.

“Bedroom,” Maverick says, and pushes Ice with both hands in the right direction. They make it as far as the couch, which Ice more trips over than anything, dragging Maverick down atop him. His teeth are on Maverick’s collarbone and his hands are in his underwear, and Maverick likes the direction this is heading, but he wants it to last.

“ _Bedroom_ ,” he says again.

“Giving me orders?” Ice asks crisply. “I outrank you, Lieutenant.”

Maverick bites down on the apple of his throat and grabs his erection through the fabric of his uniform pants, and Ice yelps and concedes, hoisting Maverick up and carrying him to the bedroom.

Ice throws him on the bed, then shucks off his shirt before crawling on top of him. Maverick turns them, pinning him, and Ice bucks beneath him until Maverick grinds against him, their crotches lined up. Ice sighs and pushes back, and they wrestle around for a bit, losing their clothing piece by piece. 

“Relax,” Maverick says.

“ _You_ relax.”

Maverick grabs both their cocks and strokes them with a slow tempo and a strong grip. Ice pants, but he does relax, a little. He stops fighting, at least, and he thrusts against Maverick’s hand.

“Come on, come on,” he rasps.

Maverick bites down on his neck again, and Ice groans. He bullies Ice onto his back, looming over him. Something strikes him.

“Ice,” he says, “we’ve got time. It’s okay. We’ve got time.”

Ice looks at him. Slowly, the tension leaves his face. He lays back, watching Maverick with his pale eyes, face relaxed.

“Okay, Maverick,” he says. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  
  


1993

It’s early morning, and Maverick’s only awake in the slimmest sense of the word. He can feel Ice’s warmth all along his side, and he smiles, turns to his side, sliding his arms around Ice and pulling him close. Ice sighs, and Maverick feels Ice’s fingers close down on his arm, holding on. 

“You could stay,” Maverick whispers. 

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Ice murmurs, but he doesn’t move. 

Maverick kisses his neck, his jaw. He keeps a tight hold on him. Maybe if he holds him tight enough, he won’t go. Transport, 1100 hours. They have time. So much time. But never _enough_ time. 

“I love you,” Maverick says. 

“I love you, too. But I have orders.” 

“Tell me you don’t love being out there more than you love me.”

“You jealous of my plane, Mav?” Ice asks, turning onto his back to look him in the face. His eyes are silver in the low light. “I ride you the same, baby.”

“You are such an asshole sometimes.”

“Don’t make me choose, Mav,” Ice says, and he sounds serious now. “If you love me, you wouldn’t take that away from me. Up there…? That’s heaven for me, Mav.”

***

Three months later, Maverick calls for Ice the same as he does every night, only this time Ice never comes to the phone. Eventually the comms guy comes back and tells Maverick Ice is on shore, in hospital. That’s all the information he has, thanks for calling, Commander. 

Maverick hangs up the phone and finds he’s shaking. He doesn’t sleep all night, and as soon as he gets to TOPGUN, he pulls strings and sells favors to get a rundown on Ice’s condition. It’s not prudent, but he’d give up his wings to know Ice is okay, so he’ll risk it. 

Ice’s plane was shot down. He ejected, parachute deployed properly, minor injuries. Broken wrist, some burns, concussion. Maverick sits down on the floor of his office and cries, every muscle in his body shaking. He could have been gone. He could have been gone. 

***

Maverick gets a call in the middle of the night. He hears the voice on the other end and jolts up, like he’s just been shocked back to life. 

“Hey,” Ice says. “Did I wake you? I know it’s late there.”

“No.” Then, all in one breath: “Jesus Christ, man, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mav. It’s just—it’s just that, somehow, when I woke up in the hospital, I expected to see you there. And you weren’t. And that hurt me more than—more than I’ve ever—”

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay. I’m here now. Do you—do you want me to come? I can come.”

“Don’t be stupid. We’ll both lose our wings. I can take care of myself.”

“Ice, the thing is, you don’t have to.”

“I just miss you. It’s not fatal. It only feels that way.”

  
  


1994

Maverick gets a call at work one day. It’s early afternoon, which means it’s really late where Ice is.

“I’m going to ask you a question,” Ice says before Maverick can say anything. “And if I mean anything to you at all, you’ll be honest with me.”

“I promise, Ice. What’s going on?”

“What if—what if I wanted to come home? For good.”

“Where’s home?”

“You, you idiot. You’re home.”

Maverick’s breath catches in his chest. “Like … no more postcards? No more phone calls? No more two weeks a year bullshit?”

“Right,” Ice says. “Because I’d be there.” There’s something vulnerable in his tone. “What would—what would that be like for you?”

Maverick answers honestly. “Heaven. It would be heaven. How soon can you do it? Now? I’ll fly out to the goddamn Indian Ocean and bring you back myself if it’ll get you here a day earlier.”

Ice laughs, and it’s relief and hope and pure, unadulterated joy. 

“Soon,” he says. “Really soon.”

Maverick smiles. He looks at that damn postcard, which is still on his desk, tucked between the picture of him and his father and the one of him and Goose. “I’ll be waiting.”  



End file.
